17
by AnitaLife
Summary: The adventures of the 17th Doctor and his companion(s) is chronicled.


**Author's Note: **Hello! The Doctor and his companion, along with the TARDIS interior are all of my own imagination, based off of the show Doctor Who. Please remember to review at the end of it! It might start of slowly, but it will most certainly get better! Enjoy!

* * *

One last glance in the mirror. Dress perfectly aligned, pearls perfectly draped, ruby lips and a dainty flip at the very tips of her hair. She tied the starched apron as neatly as she could, rubber gloves tucking into the pocket in the front, letting the yellow form stick over.

Just what the script called for.

"Tosh, on stage! Now!" a stagehand hissed through the door. "You have less than a minute before your entrance."

Instantly, both of them were rushing to the stage. It wasn't far, but it felt like forever to get there while making a minimal amount of noise. The people in the audience would hear every step if she actually ran.

Just in time, she managed to get in place. With a single deep breath and a single sweeping step, she glided on stage when her cue came. Her smile became wide and fixed, like it had every night for the past several months.

"My husband will be home soon," she said in what sounded like a chirping bird. That was how everybody talked in Sunnydale, California.

The dialogue shot around the stage, sounding real enough. After months and months of reciting the same things, it could only sound like they meant it. Even the motions were mechanic. The marches across stage, the pouring of coffee, the flourishing motions. It had all been said and done.

The set was set perfectly representative of a home in the 1950's. Pristine blue walls, carefully placed flowers and tables, a radio perched on a shelf and a television placed up against the wall. Even down to the windows, a blue sky and picket white fence could be seen.

With the perfectly practiced time, the husband entered. His hair was slicked back, his blue tie was perfectly aligned, pretty much all that was representative of the age. As always, a big smile spread on his face. "Honey, I'm home!"

He looped his arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her forehead. There was a nagging concern that he might mess up her make up. Then again, she rationalized, this was the final scene. There were only a few lines of dialogue left.

The lines bounced around with a fake enthusiasm and glee. It was all well rehearsed, after all. The trophy wife was the one with the final line. She grinned as she always did and said, "Well, at least we are all home."

The lights cut out almost immediately. When they came back on, the actors bowed as the audience applauded them. It was for this that they spent all of those hours. Those moments of recognition.

Her gaze meandered as she stood at the peak of the world. A few people were already scuttling out the doors, hopefully trying to get to their cars before all of the roads became gridlocked. Many people were clapping. A few family members of the actors were toting grand bouquets of flowers. The director and a good chuck of the crew were giving thumbs up from behind the mirror like glass of the sound booth. She even noticed a lone figure up on the catwalk where a lot of the lights were.

She glanced back up at the top. Nobody was supposed to be up there. Then she realized that it was him.

It was _him. _

Whenever she got nervous, there he was. But she wasn't nervous now. Was she? Now she was. Was she nervous before she saw him? Did she suddenly realize her nerves when she caught the glimpse of him. It was her nerves. Just a symptom of her nerves. Most people her age lost sleep or jittered. She got this guy. The strange man that never aged or left a trace.

He was a very tall, narrow figure. There was an untidy mop of waved black locks that had a tendency to fall just above his eyes. That was all she knew about him. There was no mistaking that it was him, however. After billions of spare glances, glimpses through windows, flashes on reflective surfaces, she knew him.

When he made for the exit, she didn't even hesitate for a second to decide on her actions. Only one thought mattered at that moment.

Not this time.


End file.
